Defenseless and Silent
by ShadowMaster-s-Penalty
Summary: ."Submit yourself to me: body, freedom, and will. Accept my command and punishment." He shivered at the words, trembling freely now. For his aibou, though...And had he not earned his own punishment?
1. Chapter 1 Submission

Author's Notes: WARNING: Mature content!! If you are not old enough, or will take offense or otherwise do not care for such things, DO NOT READ. Period. Flames and other idiotic responses will not be tolerated. _There is NO sexual content_, but there are mature themes explored that stem from deviant practices and lifestyles.

Okay. Now that _that's_ out of the way . . . HI! As stated in my bio, I am a happy member of the BDSM community, and this account was created to explore some of those practices in the context of fanfiction, specifically with my Pharaoh-kun. This fic was inspired by an icon made by fellow YGO fan, "skyla-doragono" (LiveJournal penname... and that dash _should_ be an underscore but FFnet doesn't seem to like underscore). It is the icon I have on my bio page. The syntax sounded off to me – I tend to want to state the words in the opposite order in terms of alliteration, "silent and defenseless" – until I realized it was probably in that order to mimic another "D and S" combination, the BDSM concept and practice of "domination and submission," or "dom/me and slave (or submissive)." I was talking to a close friend and fellow YGO fan and lifestyler about the icon, and this story is the result. I hope you enjoy it as much as we have!

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Defenseless and Silent"  
by Shadow Master's Penalty

Chapter One – Submission

How could this have happened? How could he have _let_ it happen? How could he have been so _blind_?

_How_ could he have been so _stupid?!_

He sank to his knees, face buried in his hands, shaking with the sharp grief of loss. Swirling purple-black clouds of Shadow still flowed around him in the wake of his folly, writhing in their anger at him.

Yami had never before lost a Shadow Game. Neither had he initiated one in haste or in anger, not before he knew full well the situation and the conditions, but this time there had not been time to do so. He had had to act quickly and decisively . . . but he had misread the circumstances, and his decision had been wrong. And he had lost.

For the first time in his limited memory, Yami had lost a Shadow Game. When he initiated and won, it was he who determined his opponent's Penalty Game. He had always wondered what _his_ Penalty Game, one inflicted by the very Shadows themselves, would be were he to lose. Now he knew. The empty ache in his heart was already too much to bear – an echoing hollowness where his _aibou_ had stood until but a moment ago.

They had taken him! _Why?!_ Yami's hands curled into fists as they dropped to his sides. _Why_ had the Shadows taken Yugi's soul? Yugi was innocent of this! Or was it because the boy had failed to stop his "other heart," to hold back "his dark half"? But, no, that could not have been it. The Shadows tested a man's heart, knew the truth in a man's soul. The spirit of the Millennium Puzzle had taken the name "Yami" – "Darkness" – in the absence of knowledge of his true name because he and Yugi both had once thought he was merely a darker facet of Yugi's own personality, but they now knew this was not the case. They were two separate, albeit intimately linked, souls. And the Shadows _had_ to know the same! So why had they levied Penalty on Yugi and not Yami? Well, true, by extension, Yami would suffer, but Yugi more immediately? It was not right! It was not just! The power of the Shadows was the power to weigh and judge a man's heart, and deal with him accordingly. The Shadows did not know grace or mercy, but they flowed with truth, righteousness and justice. Those traits were cold and impartial, to be sure, but there nonetheless.

But they had taken Yugi, leaving Yami in the body. Leaving Yami to mourn.

He would right this. He _would_ right this! He did not know how, but he _had_ to. For his _aibou_'s sake, he had to . . . even though it meant taking on the very Shadows themselves.

He looked up, peering into the swirling depths of the purple-black vapors embracing him. A moment ago, he had not had presence of mind beyond his grief to wonder why they still surrounded him, after the conclusion of the Game, but now he questioned. Perhaps they had known his desire to test and challenge them before he himself had gotten as far in his own conscious reasoning? The Shadows knew a man's heart, after all.

The sound of footsteps startled him just then – the soft _click-clack_ of a woman's low heels, from Yami's best guess. The stride was slow, or long. Yami could not tell which. He listened as the footsteps grew steadily louder, the unknown person closing the distance rather quickly. A form resolved out of the Shadows, emerging from the swirls almost as if conjured by them. It was indeed a woman, and not human. For one, she was too tall, maybe seven feet. Her skin, if not truly black, was a dark enough shade of smoky blue-gray to qualify. Her eyes were dark as well, black but not quite. Something shifted across the surfaces though, from where he knelt, he could not make out exactly what. Slightly pointed ears peeked from under long, wavy tresses, also black – _of course_, Yami could hardly help but note with a hint of sarcasm – loosely pulled back from her face. She wore a form-fitting dress of the deepest purple, matching the Shadows, of a style Yami thought a so-called "Goth" might wear, long enough to cover her feet, ribbon-trimmed hem brushing the ground.

She stopped a few yards from him, studying him, a hand on her hip accenting long nails. "Do you really want him back?" Her voice was low and firm, not a voice of stereotypical softness or "weakness" in any respect.

Yami stood, squaring his shoulders to face her, a hard mask settling over his features and his grief. "Who are you?" He had his suspicions, of course, but was not about to assume.

The woman's head tilted a little. "It is impolite to answer a question with a question."

Yami felt his chin tuck a bit in challenge, hands in loose fists at his sides. "Perhaps . . . but let me ask another, then, before I answer. What business is this of yours?"

He watched her eyes narrow. "You are the chosen of the Shadows, and you have made a grievous mistake. As an agent of the Shadows, it is my business to see to it that you do not abuse your power again."

Yami stiffened, breath catching in his throat. It was worse than he thought. She was indeed an embodiment of the Shadows . . . but they had not sent her to let him challenge them for Yugi's soul? And how exactly did she intend to "see" to this? A seed of fear implanted at the thought, and he could only hope it did not show in his eyes. The Shadows tested the heart, and those of weak hearts lost. He could not afford to allow his heart to be weak. Again. "See to it? How?"

The woman eyed him for a moment. "Do not make me ask my first question again."

Inwardly, Yami growled at her avoidance, but he supposed he could not blame her. She was not the one essentially on trial. He further squared his shoulders, bracing. "If you mean Mutou Yugi, I do." Yes, that clarification had to be made. It was best never to assume, even with the straightforward Shadows. "He is innocent of this. Any Penalty for this wrong should fall on _my_ shoulders, not his. He should _not_ be made to pay in my stead. There is no justice in that."

The woman gazed at him a long moment as though weighing the truth of his words. "I can return him to you . . . on one condition."

It was his turn to narrow his eyes. "Can . . . or _will_?" He would know for certain that the other end of any bargain would be met before even listening to terms.

"Will . . . if you can hold to the condition required."

Yami frowned at that. _"If"__ I can . . . ?_ "What is the condition?"

"You must submit yourself to me, wholly and completely, serve the punishment that is rightly yours for losing an innocent soul."

Yami's eyes widened as he pulled back from her a bit. "'Submit' to you?" He swallowed, almost afraid to ask. "How so?"

A very slight smile graced her dark lips. "Your body, your freedom, and your will, Nameless One. You will submit to me, take my command and any punishment that I see fit. Do this, and your vessel will be returned to you."

A shudder went through him at her words. Enslave himself to her? Was that what she was saying? Was that . . . was that what the Shadows demanded of him? "F-for . . . " To his dismay, his voice ran out on him. He swallowed and tried again. "For how long?" His voice hardened a bit as he added, "And how do I _know_ you will keep your word?"

"For seventy-two hours." Her face had returned to a neutral expression, but then that hint of a smile returned for a moment. "And because the Shadows are impartial and just. You of all people should know that."

Yami braced back from her, fists clenching. "The Shadows themselves are, yes . . . " Not that he was arguing that _she_ would not be, but . . .

He was hesitating, and he knew it. She had demanded that he submit himself to her – body, freedom, and will. Frankly, he . . . was not sure he _could_, even if he wanted to. He knew that he was proud and willful to a fault. But this was not for himself. This was for his _aibou_ . . . He could feel the fear growing in his heart at the reality of what he was going to have to do, of what he might have to submit to, might have to suffer . . .

"Shadows weigh the heart, Nameless One," the woman replied. "If I lie, then I will be judged."

Yami could not deny the truth of that. As she had said, he of all people knew how the Shadows operated. He began to tremble. His eyes met hers, and he wondered if she could read his fear in them. "Where is Aibou now? Is he all right? Is he under any kind of distress? What has happened to him?"

Her neutral expression did not waver. "That is not for you to know. You lost the right to know when you lost his soul."

He opened his mouth to reply, but what could he say to that? He bowed his head, fists clenching harder so that the nails bit into his palms, eyes closing in grief. His voice was barely audible even to his own ears. "Aibou . . . "

"Your answer?"

His eyes snapped up to her, grief and self-judgment washing through him. And fear. He tried to form words, a coherent thought, but nothing would come to his shocked mind.

She gazed back at him with cool eyes. "A 'no,' then? Your vessel will be disappointed." She turned and began to walk away.

That unlocked his mind, and he lurched, stepping toward her, reaching. "W-wait!" She stopped but did not turn or speak. "I-I . . . " He gulped, eyes closing. _Aibou . . ._ Her words echoed in his mind. "_Submit yourself to me: your body, your freedom, and your will. Take my command and punishment. For seventy-two hours_." He shivered, trembling freely now. For his _aibou_, though – and to right this wrong and restore his honor – he would do just about anything. And had he not earned his own punishment?

Eyes still closed, head bowed, he forced the words through a throat tight with fear. "F-for . . . for Yugi's sake, for his safe return . . . I-I . . . I agree t-to your terms." _Oh, gods . ._ . What would she _do_ to him? And he could not even resist! But . . . not like he did not deserve this . . . whatever it may be . . . "I w-will – " His voice failed him. He gulped but was unable to steady it, getting the words out in a shaken whisper. " – s-submit . . . t-to you, agent of the . . . p-punishing Shadows."

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Author's Notes: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2 The Mistress and the Slave

Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. Kadlin belongs to my friend who has helped me in the generation of this story. Title derives from the icon by "skyladoragono." I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Defenseless and Silent"  
by Shadow Master's Penalty

Chapter Two – The Mistress and the Slave

The woman gazed over her shoulder for a moment, studying him, then finally turned to face him once more. "I am known as Kadlin. You, though, are only to call me 'Mistress.' And . . . " She looked him up and down. "You must earn the right to hold such a dignity as clothing. You will remove it. Now."

Yami went rigid at the order, eyes snapping up to meet hers. "A-ah . . . !!" He caught himself from actually protesting – he had given his word of honor to "take her commands." His eyes dropping from hers once more, he shrugged off his jacket. Shaking hands reached up under the chain of the Puzzle and pulled open the buttons of his shirt one by one, tugging the hem free of his pants as he got to the bottom ones, then he dropped the shirt on top of the jacket. The wristbands and belts followed, the latter set carefully on the ground so as not to disturb the Deck case on the one. He managed to keep his balance as he pulled off first one boot, then the other, along with socks. He hesitated a moment before he could make himself unzip and push down his slacks and briefs, stepping out of them and adding them to the pile. He stood now, nude but for the Puzzle and the collar that protected the back of his neck from the weight and chafing of the Puzzle's chain. He clasped his hands low in front of him in a poor attempt to keep himself marginally modest, trembling in fear, face burning with shame.

He felt Kadlin's – his "mistress's" – eyes on him. "You do not need to retain the Millennium Puzzle, and the only collar you will wear is one I put on you if I so choose."

_But . . . how is that possible? _Can_ I take off the Millennium Puzzle and not be forced out of Aibou's body back into my soul room?_ There was only one way to find out. He slipped the chain up over his head. He knelt and set the Puzzle on top of the pile of clothes, then sat back, pulling his hands away, losing physical contact. A _cold_ feeling washed through him briefly, but then it was gone, and he was still in possession of the body. He unbuckled the collar, dropping it next to the Puzzle, then looked over his shoulder as he sensed a change in the Shadows somewhere behind him.

A wall of black "stone" had appeared a few feet away, over six feet high and about the same in width. Two loops of what looked like leather were attached near the top. Yami could only wonder if she had willed them into existence, much as his own imagination in the past had formed and animated anything he needed for his Shadow and Penalty Games.

"Let us begin," Kadlin said, her voice dispassionate. "You will take hold of those straps, facing the wall."

Yami pushed to his feet, twisting almost subconsciously as he did so to hide his front from her, face still burning. He stepped up to the wall. He had to stretch up on the balls of his feet to reach the straps, fully extending himself, the stone cold and rough against his bare front. He felt exposed, vulnerable. It was a defenseless position . . . and he found that it frightened him. What was she going to do? Whip him, likely. He shuddered, cringing at the thought, then drew a deep breath, and another, settling his mind, bracing himself.

"Slave." Kadlin's tone was a bit of a bark. Yami jumped, cringing a little into the wall in spite of himself. "You will answer each of my commands with a 'Yes, Mistress' _before_ you do as told."

Yami nodded against the stone, his voice low. "Ah, y-yes . . . M-mistress . . . " His heart was not in it, of course, but he was obeying.

He heard her step up behind him, and he gasped, flinching, at the touch of something to his back. But it was not a whip. He guessed it to be her nails, long and rather sharp, clawing lightly down him. His back arched from the sensation, gooseflesh spreading, and his breath came in pants of anticipatory fear – surely this was not the worst she had planned for him. She continued to move her nails softly over his back, and he could imagine the light pink lines she was leaving all across his skin. After a moment, she stopped and brushed her palm down before he heard her step away. Then, an explosive CRACK! resounded in his ears, and hot pain lanced across his back. He had thought he was prepared, but his head snapped back all the same as a hoarse cry tore itself from his throat. "AAGHN!!" He could only imagine the deep red line that must have blossomed across his shoulders in the wake of the whip's strike.

CRACK!

"HNNnnnnn!!!!" _Breathe, breathe!_ he reminded himself. _You can bear this. For Aibou . . . this is for Aibou._

Kadlin's voice broke through the ominous silence between lashes. "Think about what you have done, slave." CRACK! "Think about what you have lost." CRACK!

Yami tried to swallow his cries, to "take it" with some measure of dignity but, after the fourth lash – after her words – a soft, choked whisper escaped him. "A-aibou . . . "

CRACKCRACK!! In quick succession, Kadlin attacked him with a double-strike, too fast for him to process and brace, and he cried out again, back arching, head reared. "You are _not_ permitted to speak, _slave_." Yami moaned.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Lash after lash after lash . . . Again and again, the whip struck until Yami would have lost count. He refused to succumb to screams again, but he was gasping and panting, writhing at the _hot_ agony lacing across his exposed back from shoulders to hips. He could have let go at any time, turned to resist her, to stop her, but by his word he could not, and that affected him more than if she had bound him. He was _choosing_ to submit to being whipped!

CRACK! The lash fell one last time, snapping louder and striking harder than the others, biting deeper into his flesh. "Slave, face me, and take hold of the straps again once you have."

Trembling with pain now as much as fear, it took Yami a moment to pry his hands open, peeling them from the leather. He closed his eyes without thinking as he turned slowly, exposing his front to her, leaning lightly back on his buttocks against the wall to keep his whiplashed back from it. His arms ached from shoulders to fingers with the strain of his reactions, bearing the beating, and he took just a moment to quickly massage the sore muscles, then raised his arms over his head again to find the straps. They were higher than he could reach comfortably. He looked up, then stretched himself again, gasping and hissing in pain as he was forced to press the whole length of his lacerated back against the wall, rough stone scratching _angry_ – and likely bloody – welts. He closed his eyes again as he tried to settle his mind and body, accepting the pain, ignoring it. It was immeasurably hard.

"Look at me."

Yami did so, wondering at the faintly irritated tone of her voice. Then, he flinched, realizing what he had not done. "Y-yes, Mis-stress . . . " It was disconcerting how his trembling made him stutter.

Kadlin frowned. "A little late for that, slave. We will deal with that disobedience before we continue." She glanced to her left, and a tall stool formed up out of the Shadows. "Bend over that, slave." In her hand, the whip shortened and stiffened into a slender rod.

Yami gulped, recognizing the implement from somewhere in his _aibou_'s knowledge, likely from primary school. It was a cane, the kind used for spanking errant children. "Y-yes, Mistress." He let go of the straps again, stumbling forward a step as his body fell out of its stressed position, skinny butt bouncing gently off the wall. The same skinny, unpadded butt that was about to be –

He met her gaze as he stepped up beside her and, for the first time, got a good look at her eyes. They were smooth and almost mirrored, like the polished surface of a glass bead. Swirls of purple and black mists danced in lazy circles behind the glassy surfaces, as if the Shadows themselves curled, trapped, in her eyes. Yami swallowed at the sight, looking away, reminded again of who and what she was, and why she was doing what she was doing. Why he was submitting to her punishments.

Yami's hand brushed lightly across the smooth seat of the stool. It was rectangular and curved upwards a little at the ends, contoured to fit a person's backside – or in his case, cradle the fronts of his hips. His heels lifted an inch or two from the ground as he bent stiffly over the top of the stool, shifting to be as comfortable as he could be with the seat pressing against his hips and low abdomen. Ironically, that same position forced his bottom up and out most effectively, as if begging to be spanked. He swallowed at the thought, face burning with renewed shame. He grasped the legs of the stool as her free hand came to rest lightly on his lower back, the cane tapping for aim across the stretched-open creases between his butt and thighs. Something told him he was going to need that grip.

"Count." The cane left contact as he glanced back and up over his left shoulder, seeing her shift as she pulled the cane back, then – FWAP! The cane _stung_ smartly across the thigh crease.

"AHNNNN!!!!" Yami jumped, nearly bucking upright with a sharp cry. Only his grip on the legs prevented it. He swallowed, panting a few times as the sting seared deeper into his flesh before relenting a little. "O-one," he murmured.

TapTAP went the cane across the same spot as Kadlin asked, "One what?"

Yami's feet pedaled a bit in his desire to get away from the promising, threatening touch. _What do you mean, one what!?_ He started to shake his head, to indicate that he did not know, but then he remembered the syntax of her first verbal command. "Ah, m-mis-stress?"

"Better. We are starting over." FWAP! The cane smacked across the middle of his cheeks.

Yami bucked again. "AHN! . . . o-one, Mistress . . . " _Gods, how humiliating!!_ He caught himself from squirming. _Think of Aibou. Think of Aibou . . _.

FWAP! The cane lashed diagonally across the cheeks, catching and reigniting both previous strikes.

Yami managed to keep himself still, holding his breath for the receipt of the lash. Then, slowly, he let his breath out, forcing his voice to be even and unstrained. "Two, Mistress . . ."

FWAP! to low butt. FWAP! to the thigh crease again.

" . . . three, four, Mistress." He hated that word. He HATED that word! He writhed with the thought, butt stinging and back _burning_ from the abuse he had taken already. _For Aibou, for Aibou, remember Aibou . ._ . It was his mantra.

Five quick, sharp FWAPS! of the cane lashed his thigh crease and lower butt, and she held the cane against his skin with the last one, somehow making the sting sink even deeper into flesh and muscle alike.

"AHNNN!!!" With those, he could not hold his breath, crying out as he bucked and squirmed, feet pedaling. He gasped a few times, swallowed, panted. "N-nine, Mistress." _I think . ._ .

Another five FWAPS stung their way up his butt in rapid-fire succession.

He _trembled_ with the effort to hold still, panting, trying to breathe with the pain. ". . . f-fourt-teen, M-mistress."

FWAP! – an extra hard lash to his thigh crease again, the cane left in place to press the burning sting deeper.

He bucked, then hesitated, panting softly until he was sure his voice would be steady. "Fifteen . . . M-mistress . . . "

"Now slave, you will retake your position against the wall."

Yami gulped hard before answering, his voice low. "Y-yes . . . Mistress." Slowly, he pushed himself upright from the stool. In morbid curiosity, he reached back for just a second, fingers brushing with feather-light pressure over the angry cane welts crossing his bottom. A _hiss_ of a breath escaped him at the raw burn his touch excited along definite ridges across the flesh, the skin a little tight and swollen even in between.

He stepped to the wall, facing it for a moment, dreading its touch against his abused flesh. He pulled a breath as he turned, eyes closed, bracing. Reaching up to grip the loops, he swallowed gasps of pain at the aggravated welts across his back _and_ butt, then mentally and physically settled himself again, preparing.

This was going to be a very _long_ – and torturous! – three days . . .

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Author's Notes: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks! 


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